Lost
by tearful-eye
Summary: After 'On the Job'. Danny's POV. Oneshot: Danny has lost...


_I hope my English is not too bad, because it's not my first language (and not even my second:-) I hope there aren't too many mistakes…_

_This is just something I thought of, after Danny has been trough so much. I've always loved his character and I hope I'm going to be able to write some more about him in the future._

_Perhaps I'll add a second part from Mac's POV…_

_Nothing is mine, only this story…_

_After 'on the Job', Danny's POV:_

**LOST**

I know that I am not someone you can trust.

I know that I am not someone you can depend on. I have proved it over and over again.

But sometimes I can still pretend everything is all right, even if it's not. Because I wished it was true. I wished I could be trusted, or that I was strong and honest. Which I am not.

Sometimes I wished I could look into his eyes and smile, and not see his disappointment. Or his lack of faith in me.

I wished we could look at each other without him having to ask me what was wrong; or why I was looking like that; or him just walking out of the room and not saying anything at all.

I know I am done.

Everything I have achieved since my teenager years has crumbled into nothing. And now I'm at the beginning again and I don't have the strength to start all over again. I don't want to start again because I know that I'm never going to reach an end. Because there is no end, no finish line, where I can run trough and just lie down. Because I always have to run further, and faster. And I have no strength anymore.

I have no strength to smile anymore.

No strength to try.

Of course Aiden worries about me, she watches me, I know; and she knows that I know it. She does it anyway. But it's not helping, quite the opposite. I don't like somebody watching me, and now everybody seems to be watching me. Constantly.

Aiden watches me with worry and she tries to help, which she can't.

Don watches me. He tries to joke and make me laugh, but he can't.

Stella is watching me, she is watching and waiting. waiting for me to fall apart entirely.

Sheldon is watching me, distant and a bit afraid. And he doesn't know what to do. Perhaps he doesn't care.

And Mac is watching me. Watching me, worrying, waiting, not trusting me and not saying a word. His eyes are always there: asking, waiting, burning, scolding me every step of the way. And every time I look at him, he turns away, his eyes growing so cold.

I am watching too. I know it's strange, but sometimes I feel as if some kind of robot. I sit in the back of my mind and watch out of my own eyes what robot-Danny is doing. How he is succeeding in making his life even more miserable, and how he is falling apart.

How I am falling apart.

Only when I look into the mirror, I really feel myself anymore. I don't like how I feel then. So it's better just to observe myself and wait for the end. And smashing every mirror in can get my hands on, so I don't have to feel anymore.

It's not like I want to screw up, I just can't help it. I can't help to be bitter and sensitive at the same time. Can't help that I care more than I should but be so detached in the same moment. I am not steady, not strong, some kind of wimp, no real man, even if I want to.

No real man; that's what my father always told me. I've never believed him until now. I lie about my past, about my family, am ashamed of myself. No real man would do so, would act like I do.

I shot a man. Something I've never done in my entire career as a gang member. I shot a cop – I could have shot myself as well, it wouldn't have made any difference. I would not be walking around dead inside, just be physically dead too; it would have been worth a try. But now it's too late, because everyone is watching me. And I don't know what to do anymore. I can't try anymore.

I have lost.

You have won, whoever you are. I can hear you laughing about my failure, as if you knew all along that I wasn't made to win or even to survive. I was born to fail, to screw up. And I've succeeded in that.

You've won, father. You always told me, that I was no good, that I was rotten; it's true. I'm sorry I've ever denied that. I see now what you've meant when you talked to me like that. Now I can see it too.

I've lost. and there is no turning back.

I've lost and you've won.

And they are still watching me.

And Mac is still turning away.

And I am alone with my reflections in the shattered mirrors.

_end. by Camlost_


End file.
